


short sockathan fluff

by McFaye



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, sockathan - Freeform, super fluffy sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:32:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McFaye/pseuds/McFaye





	short sockathan fluff

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Sock was sitting cross-legged across from Jonathan. His hand was outstretched, close enough to touch his face. He stopped moving his hand closer at his question and pulled it back a little.

“Uhhh...nothing?” Jonathan sighed, and his tensed shoulders relaxed.

“Go ahead.” Sock smiled slightly, and he moved his hand closer again, and slowly he rested it on his cheek, running his thumb over it.

Ever since Sock had died, the way his ghostly body worked was nothing short of confusing. His skin was cold and didn’t feel human. He was able to grab things and touch inanimate objects and could phase through them as well. But when it came to living things, it was more complicated. The only way he was able to physically interact with people was when they wanted him to or allowed him to.

Sock wasn’t particularly surprised by the cold, unnatural feeling of his skin. He didn’t expect being a demon to feel like being alive, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss life. He missed the warmth of being alive. For someone who made a habit of killing things, he didn’t really like being dead himself.

And so, this was the only way he dealt with it. Jonathan was the only person he could communicate with, so this was all he could do. Jonathan would think of allowing Sock to touch him, and he would. Sometimes he would hold his hand, rub his arm, and sometimes, like now, he would caress his face.

“Your face is so soft.”

“Mm.”

Sock pulled his palm off his face and pointed his finger onto his cheek. He ran his finger over his mouth, his nose, and his forehead. He slowly brought it over to his eye and waited for him to close them. When he did, he ran his finger over his eyelashes, examining them closely.

“J-You poked my eye.”

“Sorry!”

Jonathan shook his head, brushing it off as nothing. Sock brought his hand higher up to his hairline and took strands of his hair gently through his fingers. He combed it lightly, listening to his breathing get uneven, his face slightly flushed.

Sock would do this a lot. His reasoning was a long sob story about how he missed touching people and the warmth of living skin. Jonathan took pity on him about seven minutes through the story. Sock was happy he agreed if he held out longer he would have had to start crying.

He didn’t think of it as such a big deal at first, he was only letting Sock relive something he wouldn’t have himself again. But it wasn’t a one-time thing, and the more he did it, the more nervous he got about it. One time he was particularly jumpy he was so unfocused with thoughts of his demon friend that Sock phased through him and then got stuck in his torso for a few seconds when he snapped out of it.

No matter how many times Sock asked to do this, there were times when he wavered, unable to comprehend that he was practically being caressed, which certainly didn’t stopper his crush on him. His stoic attitude towards the demon was unstable when he did this, and Sock didn’t seem to notice.

He didn’t mention it or seem confused by it. He seemed to think it was completely normal. Either he didn’t know what it meant or didn’t care.

Jonathan didn’t really understand. Sock was always annoying and prodding, but when it came to this arrangement, he was mostly silent and gentle.

“Your hair is so greasy, when’s the last time you washed this?” That was more his normal speed.

“Last night.” Sock whistled.

“I guess that’s what you get for being a teenager.”

Jonathan huffed and opened his eyes, glaring at him. The one thing Sock did like about being undead was the fact he wasn’t greasy like he would be alive, and he made sure to make fun of Jonathan for it every chance he got, even peaceful moments like these.

Sock moved his hand back down to his cheek, cupping it in his hand. He ran his thumb over it, watching Jonathan’s reaction to every movement.

“You’re clogging my pores.”

“If anything I’m cleaning them, greaseball.” Jonathan playfully smacked him, shifting his hat.

Sock watched him intently and tightened his grip slightly. He held his face, staring at his hand. Touching him, interacting with him. As long as he still wanted him to touch him, he could do anything he wanted with him. Anything…

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jonathan’s cheek. In his peripheral vision, he could see his eyes widen, and he froze up, but Sock didn’t go through him. He was still able to touch him, his lips were still touching his cheek. Well, if he still wanted this, might as well go all the way.

Sock pulled back momentarily, then leaned in to kiss another part of his cheek, and then repeated the process on nearly every part of his face. He grabbed the front of his hoodie and leaned in further as he peppered his face with kisses and leaned all his weight on him. Slowly, Jonathan started to cave under him and his body started to go over the edge of his bed.

“W-wh-!”

Jonathan felt the back of his head slam onto the carpet of his bedroom floor and slid further down, his demon laying on top of him, still kissing his face. A few moments later, he finally pulled away, and when Jonathan opened his eyes, he closed them again when Sock’s hat fell into his face. He shook it off, squinting up at his wide smile.

“That was fun! I kinda miss the feeling of falling.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“But you’re still letting me touch you.” Immediately after he said that Sock fell through him and hit the carpet, getting phased into Jonathan’s torso for the second time that week.


End file.
